Audience who?
I can’t stress it enough. You must know your audience when communicating about anything. I saw a laughable example of this last night. Let me re-cap.
Setting: Popular local gym; Situation: Current member wanted to try out a new gym class
How do I know all this? I walked in behind her.
Woman: “Hey, is this sign-in sheet for your 5:30 class?”
Guy behind desk (points to sign-in sheets): “This one is for X, Y, Z class. And this one is for A, B, C class.”
Woman: “Uhh…”
Me (pointing to sign-in sheet): “This one is for the 5:30 class.”
Guy behind desk: “Yeah. That’s X, Y, Z class at 5:30. The other is A, B, C class at 6.”
The woman signed her name on the sheet I had pointed to, then walked off. I also signed my name on the same sheet. It’s the entire reason I was at the gym.
It’s evident that the young man doesn’t communicate effectively. Good thing he’s not in Marketing, eh? A good rule of thumb is to listen. Hear what people are saying or asking. Did the woman ask when X, Y, Z class was? No. Did she point to a sign-in sheet and ask, “What class is this?” No. She had a very specific question. And if the guy behind the desk had listened, he could have communicated more effectively to her – in the language she spoke.
Ah, language. So, even if you know your audience, you have to communicate in their language. You wouldn’t send a letter to an 80-year-old retiree and drop words like “bunk” and “cougar.” Well, you could, but he wouldn’t understand (unless he was current on his vernacular). Just like a 15-year-old won’t know what a “jalopy” is. So, know your audience and know the language they speak.
In the example I gave, it’s evident the woman knew what time the class started, and she knew she wanted to go to it. She simply needed to know which of the two sheets to sign. Easy enough, right? It shouldn’t have been a 45-second snafu. If that had been a woman facing a decision based on an advertising campaign or Marketing flyer, she would have already moved on to something else, something that probably didn’t confuse her and have her second guessing herself. Don’t make people second guess themselves. That’s not why you write copy. That’s the last thing you want to do, unless you are trying to make them second guess a current product/service in the attempt to sway them over to the one you’re promoting. But, let’s pretend you’re not right now. And don't send more than one message; they will fight to the death with each other, which only results in your audience walking away. So, for future reference, know the language your audience speaks. Speak it with them. And don’t be like the guy behind the desk, oblivious.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Your Style of Expression
Writing. Drawing. Dancing. Painting. Taking photos. Making music. Designing buildings. Listening to music. Wearing clothes that give you confidence. These are types of creative expression. And I love them all. I admire people who strive to be individuals, not for the sheer fact of standing out (or not fitting in) but for the genuine desire to be a whole, fully-understood person. Everything we do says something about who we are—from the shoes on our feet to the cars in the street. And I think that’s what makes Marketing so powerful. You can make a statement to get a consumer to, well, make their own statement. Want to be successful, politically outspoken, taken seriously, healthier, in love or better organized? Then this (insert specific product here) is for you! I’ve always been fascinated about the psychology that goes into Marketing. The want’s, got-to-have’s, need’s and can’t-live-without’s are what drive Marketing and its creative efforts. And at the bottom of all this is you, the consumer, the individual. You’re looking to express yourself, to own something that feels, sounds, tastes and looks like you (or part of you). Besides, Marketing isn’t telling you what to do; we’re telling you to tell yourself.
Consider the interior of a friend’s house. Do you get a good picture of who that person is when you visit? From the couch style and color to the messy cabinets full of plastic containers, you start to build a picture of who that person is to you, while, let’s be honest, that person has their own perspective of themselves. The cabinet may be messy to you. Maybe it’s not to your friend.
Amazing how perception alters our reality. And Marketing can do a fantastic job of altering our realities or encouraging each of us to alter our own, simply by changing our perception. Yet, at the core level of each of us is an individual with unique thoughts, interests and tastes. You’ll never be me (thank your lucky stars for that) and I’ll never be you. And that’s a-okay. Sure, I envy my designer friends when they create something so amazing that all I can do is stare wide-eyed, as if I’m a child who just found a four-leaf clover. I’m amazed at musicians who craft songs out of thin air. I am enthralled by artists who draw and paint, for that’s a talent I will never have, no matter how many ART 101 classes I take. Each of us has our own talents, and often times, when we are creative people, we use these talents to express ourselves—to send a message into the world about who we are and what we stand for. And that’s why I love expression. It’s why I love creativity. Those who strive to capture their muse and exercise the wilder parts of their imagination get my full-on, five-star respect.
By working in Marketing and trying to get inside a consumer’s head, I have grown to appreciate individuality even more. I know people are getting constantly bombarded by messages—a lot poorly written—that we often lose sight of what is the fundamental message: live, be, enjoy, prosper.
So, if you dance, dance. If you draw, draw. If there is something you do well, then do it and do it, of course, well. For the world needs more creative people. And you could be one of them. If you don’t believe me, take a trip to the Eiffel Tower, attend a Broadway musical, enroll in an art class, keep a journal, or learn to play piano. Nothing’s stopping you except for you. And take it from me—somebody who feared she’d never land a copywriting job, let alone be working on multi-media projects—you can, if you only try.
Consider the interior of a friend’s house. Do you get a good picture of who that person is when you visit? From the couch style and color to the messy cabinets full of plastic containers, you start to build a picture of who that person is to you, while, let’s be honest, that person has their own perspective of themselves. The cabinet may be messy to you. Maybe it’s not to your friend.
Amazing how perception alters our reality. And Marketing can do a fantastic job of altering our realities or encouraging each of us to alter our own, simply by changing our perception. Yet, at the core level of each of us is an individual with unique thoughts, interests and tastes. You’ll never be me (thank your lucky stars for that) and I’ll never be you. And that’s a-okay. Sure, I envy my designer friends when they create something so amazing that all I can do is stare wide-eyed, as if I’m a child who just found a four-leaf clover. I’m amazed at musicians who craft songs out of thin air. I am enthralled by artists who draw and paint, for that’s a talent I will never have, no matter how many ART 101 classes I take. Each of us has our own talents, and often times, when we are creative people, we use these talents to express ourselves—to send a message into the world about who we are and what we stand for. And that’s why I love expression. It’s why I love creativity. Those who strive to capture their muse and exercise the wilder parts of their imagination get my full-on, five-star respect.
By working in Marketing and trying to get inside a consumer’s head, I have grown to appreciate individuality even more. I know people are getting constantly bombarded by messages—a lot poorly written—that we often lose sight of what is the fundamental message: live, be, enjoy, prosper.
So, if you dance, dance. If you draw, draw. If there is something you do well, then do it and do it, of course, well. For the world needs more creative people. And you could be one of them. If you don’t believe me, take a trip to the Eiffel Tower, attend a Broadway musical, enroll in an art class, keep a journal, or learn to play piano. Nothing’s stopping you except for you. And take it from me—somebody who feared she’d never land a copywriting job, let alone be working on multi-media projects—you can, if you only try.
Friday, October 17, 2008
A Letter to Design (Part 1)
Design --
You flaunt yourself. Don’t think I don’t notice. From the moment you walk into the room, you make friends. Instantly. They trip over themselves to get close to you. You command their attention, and they ooh and ahh over you, like you’re a newborn or a Ferrari. It’s as if they’ve never seen blues or purples before. Or tasted limited edition French chocolates. But, like I said—or meant to say—I don’t mind. It’s not like I want to be seen or heard; it’s not like I sometimes feel like a shadow, inverted and invisible, in a room full of my own echoes. Would anyone hear me if I screamed? If I whispered? If I never talked again? They would, I tell myself. They just don’t know it. Yet. (Bitter, party of one, you’re table's ready…)
Sure, some say I have a complicated personality. I make people nervous. They don’t know how to talk to me. They’re unsure about my soft demeanor. Others dislike my bland wardrobe and that I never express myself beyond a few words.
I didn’t realize this was a competition: my subtle punches against your melodramatic style. To the victor go the praise! (If I hear “This looks great” one more time…)
Design, I want to believe we work in tandem—you know, you can’t have one without the other, like a Belgium Ale and a glass with the right lip. I’ll be honest, though. Lately, I feel unappreciated, like I don’t matter. Everywhere I look, there you are. Larger-than-life posters. Every Web site. T-shirts flashier than Times Square. And every time we talk, it’s about you. I just want to be noticed, appreciated and respected. Is that too much to ask?
I understand you’re under a lot of pressure. We all are. It’s a changing world, and you need to be fresh, hip and cutting-edge to keep a job. A-list today. Bird cage lining tomorrow. I get it. I really do. Nobody wants to see you succeed more than I do. Because when you reach the top, so do I.
I guess what I’m saying is this: on our way to the top—from day one—I’d really appreciate some recognition and respect. Anyhow, maybe we can chat later. Send me a text when you got the time.
Yours truly,
-- Copy
You flaunt yourself. Don’t think I don’t notice. From the moment you walk into the room, you make friends. Instantly. They trip over themselves to get close to you. You command their attention, and they ooh and ahh over you, like you’re a newborn or a Ferrari. It’s as if they’ve never seen blues or purples before. Or tasted limited edition French chocolates. But, like I said—or meant to say—I don’t mind. It’s not like I want to be seen or heard; it’s not like I sometimes feel like a shadow, inverted and invisible, in a room full of my own echoes. Would anyone hear me if I screamed? If I whispered? If I never talked again? They would, I tell myself. They just don’t know it. Yet. (Bitter, party of one, you’re table's ready…)
Sure, some say I have a complicated personality. I make people nervous. They don’t know how to talk to me. They’re unsure about my soft demeanor. Others dislike my bland wardrobe and that I never express myself beyond a few words.
I didn’t realize this was a competition: my subtle punches against your melodramatic style. To the victor go the praise! (If I hear “This looks great” one more time…)
Design, I want to believe we work in tandem—you know, you can’t have one without the other, like a Belgium Ale and a glass with the right lip. I’ll be honest, though. Lately, I feel unappreciated, like I don’t matter. Everywhere I look, there you are. Larger-than-life posters. Every Web site. T-shirts flashier than Times Square. And every time we talk, it’s about you. I just want to be noticed, appreciated and respected. Is that too much to ask?
I understand you’re under a lot of pressure. We all are. It’s a changing world, and you need to be fresh, hip and cutting-edge to keep a job. A-list today. Bird cage lining tomorrow. I get it. I really do. Nobody wants to see you succeed more than I do. Because when you reach the top, so do I.
I guess what I’m saying is this: on our way to the top—from day one—I’d really appreciate some recognition and respect. Anyhow, maybe we can chat later. Send me a text when you got the time.
Yours truly,
-- Copy
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Copywriting is like Poetry
Every word counts. Just look at that sentence. Short, yes. But effective. Every word counts when writing a poem, particularly those in form, with meter and a rhyme scheme. When writing an advertisement, you need every word to carry its weight. You can’t turn a blind eye to boring or over-used words. Because, let’s face it, people don’t like to read. Well, most don’t. And copywriting often takes a back seat to design, splashy landing pages and photography. But words—every one of them—matter. Just like in poetry.
I remember a college assignment given to me by Alfred Corn, poet-in-residence. It was one of the first assignments of the semester, and I mulled over it with great interest. I wanted to impress him. Call me an eager student, if you want. At that time, poetry and the writing of it was everything to me.
The assignment was to write a four-line poem in response to another poem. I chose Sylvia Plath’s “Lady Lazarus,” still one of my all-time favorite poems.
Sylvia Plath penned, “Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.” At that time, a day without writing was like death. I wrote endlessly, most certain I would be accepted into a prestigious MFA program.
In any case, here is the poem I wrote:
“Dying As Art”
I eat men, not like air but like steak—deliberate, my fingers to pull
the meat apart, test the texture of words. Don’t say manducation
when you mean consumption. Don’t say parturition for resurrection,
Sappho for poet—deliberately woman, the risen phoenix.
This exercise was a study in brevity. More so, it was a study of word choice, spoken out loud. Nobody can deny the lull of the tongue, when words mix to create an impact. And like copywriting, poetry relies on every word, every punctuation, every line break. We are communicating not only with our words but also with what we don’t write. Writer’s, when looking to edit and revise content, look to trim, to toss out words that, let’s be honest, wouldn’t attract readers. Design doesn’t have to fight for attention. With color, interesting text treatments and images, design can flaunt itself easily. Words, on the other hand, caught in a one-dimensional existence, need to shout without screaming, pound fists without flinching and capture a reader’s attention without gimmicks (no offense to design or designers).
So, I think in order to excel at copywriting, a writer should read and understand two core elements of writing poetry: the economical choices the poet makes and the laborious chore to pick the very right word, when no other word would suffice. After all, haven’t you ever read an advertisement and felt a certain zing? That’s the energy of exceptional copywriting. And it’s the same zing created by poetry.
I remember a college assignment given to me by Alfred Corn, poet-in-residence. It was one of the first assignments of the semester, and I mulled over it with great interest. I wanted to impress him. Call me an eager student, if you want. At that time, poetry and the writing of it was everything to me.
The assignment was to write a four-line poem in response to another poem. I chose Sylvia Plath’s “Lady Lazarus,” still one of my all-time favorite poems.
Sylvia Plath penned, “Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.” At that time, a day without writing was like death. I wrote endlessly, most certain I would be accepted into a prestigious MFA program.
In any case, here is the poem I wrote:
“Dying As Art”
I eat men, not like air but like steak—deliberate, my fingers to pull
the meat apart, test the texture of words. Don’t say manducation
when you mean consumption. Don’t say parturition for resurrection,
Sappho for poet—deliberately woman, the risen phoenix.
This exercise was a study in brevity. More so, it was a study of word choice, spoken out loud. Nobody can deny the lull of the tongue, when words mix to create an impact. And like copywriting, poetry relies on every word, every punctuation, every line break. We are communicating not only with our words but also with what we don’t write. Writer’s, when looking to edit and revise content, look to trim, to toss out words that, let’s be honest, wouldn’t attract readers. Design doesn’t have to fight for attention. With color, interesting text treatments and images, design can flaunt itself easily. Words, on the other hand, caught in a one-dimensional existence, need to shout without screaming, pound fists without flinching and capture a reader’s attention without gimmicks (no offense to design or designers).
So, I think in order to excel at copywriting, a writer should read and understand two core elements of writing poetry: the economical choices the poet makes and the laborious chore to pick the very right word, when no other word would suffice. After all, haven’t you ever read an advertisement and felt a certain zing? That’s the energy of exceptional copywriting. And it’s the same zing created by poetry.
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